


Take Me Out, Tonight

by schwifty_rick



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Overstimulation, Secret Santa gift!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 20:52:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schwifty_rick/pseuds/schwifty_rick
Summary: Co-dependence is an ugly thing.





	Take Me Out, Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ScrambledRicks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrambledRicks/gifts).



> This is part of my secret santa exchange for @banana-kinks-k! Merry Christmas, I hope you enjoy! SORRY I'M RUSTY PLEASE ACCEPT MY HUMBLE FIC. 
> 
> Also, I totally listened to "There is a Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths while writing this, so there's the inspo.

“You really deserve something proper you know,” Rick says in between shoving his pinky up Summer’s ass and pulling away for a gulp of air. The room is thick with the smell of sweat and sex, and light spills through the tinted curtains, peppering their skin with a soft glow. “You deserve someone who can give you more than five seconds of relief from your – your little – your angsty teen ass. A real relationship. Cheap dates and awkward nervous sex and … not…not this shit.”

“I don’t want more,” Summer says, and maybe if she says it enough times she might actually start to believe it. Her head lulls to the side, dazed with pleasure. She runs her hands along her sides up to cup her breasts. She’s wanton and eager, something Rick doesn’t like to admit that he likes. She sucks in a deep breath, lets it out shakily. _Fuck,_ that feels nice.

“You don’t know what the fuck you want, Summer. Or maybe you do but your self-esteem is so goddamn shitty that you’ll settle for this. But just you fucking wait. In a few years you’ll be wishing you slit my throat right here and now instead of letting me shove my dick down yours.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, tearing at old wounds and making new ones. She doesn’t want to admit that she doesn’t have a snarky quip all geared up and ready for him, so she moans low and heavy. Wouldn’t want to ruin their established dynamic. The quick callous banter that never holds any real malice. Part of her is disappointed in herself for it, but she’s much more afraid to think of what Rick might be. Ever since he got back from prison, something in them had shifted.

Summer wants to think it has something to do with the fact that she knows him on an intimate level that nobody else does, but she only allows herself to think that when she’s feeling selfish and entitled. On days where she’s honest with herself, she can admit that nobody knows Rick Sanchez. Not really. He’s a mixed-up bag of good intentions paired with being burnt one too many times to count.

The only thing he lets in these days is a swig of whisky, or those pink beads she shoves up his ass.

She likes to think that their time here and now is him letting her in.

It isn’t.

Rick takes a second then to spit into his palm - a big glob of yellowish clear slop that dribbles down his wrist. He coats Summer’s ass real nice even though most of it misses and pools against her back. Summer arches up then, perky little tits bouncing with the movement as she leans back against his cock, pushing him inside her. Her eyes sting briefly because, fuck, it _hurts_ , but not as much as the thought of him leaving her does.

She hates it when he takes her this way, aggressive and impersonal. But she also knows it’s easier this way to forget what they’re doing. To ignore it.

“You know, you don’t really seem all that upset about it either,” she huffs, remembering his words from moments earlier.

He grunts - ignoring her - and spreads her legs open like a newly purchased book, crisp yet flexible. “Fuck, Summer…You - you really take dick like a champ,” Rick groans, leaving out the last part of the sentence that echoes in his mind, f _or your age._

His hands take hold of her plump ass and squeeze tightly enough to leave bruises that she’ll run her fingers over in the morning when she’s getting ready for school. She wants to laugh then, because when the fuck did she get so adventurous? Never in her life would she have dreamed of doing anal, and yet here she is, practically weeping for it.

Her legs tremble weakly, and she buries her face into the pillow to hide the hot tears that fall freely.

That’s the thing with Grandpa Rick. He makes you need things you never even knew you wanted. It’s that addictive personality of his that does it. It latches onto you, sucks you dry until you’re nothing left but starving and needy and he’s the only one who can provide the relief.

He wants it that way, no needs it. He needs to be needed.

A leech; a parasite. Sucking out all the good and hope you have because he has none left for himself.

“You with me, baby?” Rick takes a second to move his hand from her ass to her breast and he flicks her nipple just right. She nods, keening as she exhales. The air in her lungs leaves her in one big gulp as she feels that familiar pressure mounting. Her hands tighten into fists, and she grips helplessly at the bed sheets because it still hurts, but it feels damn good too. It’s easy to clear her mind like this, with his thick cock several inches deep inside of her, pulsing and heavy. It’s easy to forget that this is _Grandpa Rick_ even as she’s moaning his name and the sound only makes him harder.

It’s easy to pretend that even a little bit of what they’re doing is alright, and easy to forget who they are for just a moment.

Because, _yeah_ , she says as she nods frantically, fingers grasping at the crumpled sheets that’ll be stained in seconds, _she’s with him._

She’s with him.

 

* * *

 

Summer sits idly by the window, hot cup of tea in hand, and watches the snow fall in clumps, piling up and obscuring her view. She swirls her spoon around the rim, all the sugar’s settled at the bottom.

She holds the cup tightly, trying to sooth the frigid air that chills her to the bones. She always did tell her mother that they need to get better insulation here. That she could save them hundreds on the heat bill. But Beth is often stuck in her own world more than the real one these days; going through the motions of a routine without experiencing it.

She misses him.

Summer knows she won’t admit it, but these months without their father in the house have been rough. Some days she’ll come home from school and walk by their room only to find Beth drowning herself in tears and alcohol, and others she’ll put on this fake smile that’s more painful to watch than the tears.

She "wants to put on a face for the kids", Summer overhears Beth telling Rick. She wants to pretend it’s okay. It’s not.

Summer hears the scrape of the chair. Rick saddles up next to her, having only gotten home from a mission with Morty hours prior.

It takes a lot for her to pretend that she doesn’t care that they went without her this time, because sure, she has better things to do anyway. But when he sits next to her with the faint smell of sweat, blood, and whiskey, she feels a familiar quiver below her stomach twinge.

She doesn’t meet his gaze.

“Have fun?” she drawls, sipping carefully. Her eyes are fixed somewhere on the mailbox next door, sloping sideways from the pressure of the snow.

She breathes in deeply, and he’s all around. Even though she’s not looking, she can see his slouched gangly frame spilling over the side of the chair. She almost thinks he might be too tired to give her an answer, but after a moment he rumbles back,

“What do you think?”

She cracks a smile at that. Lately Morty has seriously grown some balls on him. Chalk it up to growing up or growing cynical, but either way he’s been testy lately. Not particularly fond company to have, if you ask her. Maybe it’s got something to do with Jerry. After all, everyone except Rick seems to be struggling with it in different ways. Hell, even Summer misses him. She tells herself that it’s because without him here she doesn’t really have anyone to pick on. It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that she’s worried he’s going to get murdered in that halfway house disease-infested motel he’s staying at.

Definitely not.

“I think that if you wanted to, you could’ve saved about three hours on that mission if you’d taken me instead.”

Rick shoves his face in his hands, rubs his temples, and exhales lowly. “We discussed this already, Summer. You can’t do that. He’s just as much my grandson as you are my granddaughter.”

She shrugs, feigning indifference, trying her best to ignore the urge to drop that cup of tea and run her fingers across his thigh. “You sure about that? Do you do half the shit with him that you do with me?”

Summer looks at him then, a challenge in her eye. She’s gotten bolder now, and Rick’s still trying to decide whether he likes it or not. “Oh, fuck off S-Summer.”

She smirks, standing.

She has him now.

“Okay,” she agrees all too easily, “I’ll go do that then.” He hears the clacking of the tea cup being placed on the table followed by the pads of her feet shuffling up the stairs. Rick takes a swig of his flask and curses under his breath. One moment later he’s trailing up the stairs too.

 

* * *

 

 

“Jesus, Summer, when the hell did you get so cocky?”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “What year did the Backstreet Boys break up again?”

She loves this. Missions like these when it’s just him and her against the multiverse. They take on bigger things. They fuck shit up. Rick knows he can get away with more with Summer. He knows she won’t try to lecture him out of a good time. They’re riding on their post-victory high when Rick pulls the ship onto an unexpected stop.

“Oh? We’re not done?” The shit smile won’t wipe itself from her face, and she doesn’t have to think about it too long before she realizes it’s probably the weed.

“Get in back.” Rick commands, voice gruff. In her hazed state of mind she complies, all too eager to demean herself for him. She falls into the backseat clumsily, shirt tousled, and legs spread wantonly. Her hand rubs her already slick heat.

“C’mere, Grandpa Rick.” She mewls, pushing her chest up. He hardens at her beckon, silently cursing himself for enjoying that pet name.

He’s pressing thick against his trousers when he climbs in after her, bony long limbs filling up the space quickly. He presses his nose to her throat and smells the adrenaline that pulses eagerly, feels her body mold to him like putty. Her feet are already digging into pants trying to slide them down his legs. He presses his clammy hand into her thigh, nails scraping the otherwise smooth skin. Her face scrunches briefly before it relaxes into a content sigh. She’s too young to be making these faces. He’s too old to care.

“Summer,” he drools, spit pooling at her neck where he sucks. He unbuckles his belt and lays his bulge right on top of her wetness. She moans low, he juts his hips forward, forcing the pressure. She feels wrong, too small. He wants to break her.

He settles instead for circling his thumb over her swollen clit, forcing out a soft cry she wouldn’t have let out if she was sober. “Yeah, you like that?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead slows his circles to an agonizing rate.

She squirms under his touch, and he pulses in response. Her hips buck up, underwear soaked with her teenage fucking hormones that are always raging. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. She’s always ready for him.

He rubs her through the slick cotton, and she rolls her hips forward trying to gain more contact. He doesn’t allow it.

“Answer me,” he demands, slowing his fingers to a halt.

Summer whines, opens her eyes in a furious frenzy and grabs his hand in hers. Fucks herself with him. She grinds against him craving the contact. She’s a cat in heat and she’s all over him, winding her hips in a silent rhythm, stoking her own fire. He watches her with heavy eyes, thick with need. His gaze droops, watching her pink lips jut out in a pout. He knows she puts on a show for him, and he runs his fingers through her sunset hair in silent thanks. He tugs on the ends, reminding her of his question.

“Mm, _yes_.” She answers finally, guiding his hand underneath her underwear. His fingers are instantly coated and sheathed in warmth. Fuck, it’s hot. He takes charge then, swatting her hand away and burying one long finger inside her. She clenches around him, the rough callouses providing delicious friction to her swollen nerves.

He finds it funny how easily she gives up control now, when just hours prior she was fighting with him over which disguise she got to wear.

“You’re something else, y-you know that?” But she doesn’t hear him. She’s too busy riding this high, mind too far to think about anything. All she can do is feel. His scent overwhelms her.

It’s not long before his swollen cock replaces his finger, and he fills her with a wholeness she can’t get from anywhere else. He sets a steady rhythm, hands consuming her skin in waves. He cups her shoulder, her breast, her ass. Feels where her skin is taut and firm where his isn’t. She grips his hip and feels him sliding over the bone, and briefly wonders why she finds that attractive.

He’s lean from years of running, and for a second she wonders if there have been other Summers in other dimensions like this.

The answer is don’t think about it.

“Stay with me, baby,” he warns, thumb brushing her cheek knowingly. She nods, feeling the wetness on her cheek too, and pulls him close. It’s messy and uncomfortable because neither of their bodies were meant to fit back there, let alone both. The sinking feeling in her stomach dips lower, stoking her arousal. She begs him to go faster, feels it coming closer. Her back arches, and he fucks her with a ferocity a man of his age shouldn’t have.

His thumb meets her clit once more, but there are no hints of teasing now. She never thought someone else’s hand could ever feel just as good as her own until she feels him touch her now. He feels dirty, hunched over her with spit hanging off the corner of his mouth, and to anyone else this would look bad. But there’s some sick fucked up part of her that craves this shit. It gets her off better than any porn on the internet ever could. It’s always the taboo shit that gets you off the fastest. And she’s long since stopped feeling guilty about it.

Summer empties her mind as he empties his load inside of her, still thrusting so she can get there too. Her back arches forward and her hands grip his back, pulling him closer. He’s never close enough.

His lips meet the soft spot on her neck, and it’s the trifecta that sets her off. She follows a moment later, spasming and contracting around him in thick dizzy waves until she’s laying there boneless; spent. Her heartbeat catches up to her after several moments of her laying motionless.

Rick pulls out of her with a soft _pop_ and she feels his cum dribble down her ass and sink into the seat cushions.

Too hazy to notice his movements, she lets her legs fall open, inviting him in. He lowers himself to smell her thick heat, before nibbling briefly at her thigh. Summer jolts briefly before relaxing. She’s too tired to move. He takes this as permission and continues his journey up her leg until he reaches the apex of her thighs. Wordlessly, his tongue darts out to taste them both. She jumps again, still sensitive.

“W-What are you _doing_?”

“Shhh, just relax.”

She tries, she really does. But with every soft lick and swirl of his tongue her muscles jump involuntarily, until she’s shoving her hand against his head, trying to force him away. He doesn’t budge. Damn old man is stronger than he looks.

“Grandpa Rick, s-stop. It, it’s too – _oh_ –“

Her feet dig into his back, lifting her ass off the seat until she’s only held up by her shoulders. Summer feels blood pooling at her nerve endings, and she stiffens all over. It feels good but she can’t help the way her leg twitches with each brush and stroke. She wants him to stop, but she’s moaning his name and then suddenly she doesn’t.

He laps up their mixed fluids hungrily, wrapping his arms around her thighs to pull her closer. She’s stopped pushing his head away and has settled on gripping his hair needlessly instead. She forces his tongue deeper into her, feeling raw and overexposed. She’s fucking exhausted but he’s already built her up this far, she has to finish now. His thumb circles her puckered ass then, and with gentle care he eases it in. Summer feels herself tighten in response, and she holds her breath and clenches her muscles, and his relentless assault pays off.

It doesn’t come as quickly or intensely this time, but Summer finds herself rolling over the edge once more, and this time it empties everything out of her. She feels paralyzed, her clit buzzing and humming from the sensation.

Her mind drifts off, and despite trying her best to focus on her surroundings, she only vaguely remembers a blanket being carefully placed on her, and a smooth quiet ride home.

 

* * *

 

 

She remembers the exact date and time he tells her they have to stop whatever this was.

She remembers it because it’s the same day Beth finally lets Jerry back into the house.

Summer wants to think it has something to do with the fact that Rick can’t stand to look Jerry or Beth in the eye knowing that he’s fucking their daughter, but she knows it’s not that. He’s too damn proud for that to be the case. So she asks him why.

“Because, Summer, what did you think this was? Some romance novel? Did you think we were – we’d do this forever? Look, it was fun while it lasted but it’s over.” He gives her the same cop out answer some douchebag like Brad at school would give. She thinks, _no_ , she knows she deserves better than this. Truthfully, he does too.

“No, I didn’t, I just – f-fuck you,” she blurts, knowing full well that she gave more to him than he ever gave to her, and realizing that he planned that intentionally. He’s fixing his tools to avoid meeting her gaze, but at her comment he straightens up. When he looks at her she wants to shrink and disappear into nothing because their whole shtick was that she could feel powerful over him, and she liked that. She’d never felt a dynamic shift so quickly in her life. That’s when she knew that this entire thing, none of it was real. He’d given her all of it, and fuck he had the power to take it away.

“You - you knew this day would come,” he reasons, eyes softening. She doesn’t answer because she’s too stubborn to admit he’s right. “This isn’t good for us and you know it. If we ever got caught your mother would –“

“Would what? Hmm? Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you fucked your granddaughter. Don’t take the high road with me now when we both know it doesn’t suit you. Jesus, don’t be _Morty._ ”

Summer stalks forward, sizing up her prey. She’s not just a little girl anymore and she isn’t going to let him win so easily.

Fuck, she knows this won’t last forever.

She doesn’t expect it to. She doesn’t draw hearts around his name in her notebook like some stupid girl in middle school would. If she’s being honest with herself, it’s not even really him she wants. It’s the validation he provides. Rick treats her like an equal. Treats her like she’s beautiful and powerful. Until times like now when he doesn’t, and she’s reminded of how inconsiderate and selfish he can be. Takes and takes and calls all of the shots. But not this time. She refuses to end up like her mother, bitter and alone with her thoughts and her addictions just because she never took the time to pursue what she really wanted.

Her footsteps come to a halt above him, her breasts eye level with him sitting on the stool. Her eyes flick down to his throat where he swallows and his beady little Adam’s apple bobs up and down.

“You’re right Grandpa Rick,” she agrees, dropping down to sit in his lap. He lets her. “I do know that day will come.” She feels his bulge pressing into her thigh and she leans forward, slinking herself across him. She hears him curse in another language under his breath. Feels him shudder and grip her hips. She smirks. “But you and I both know that day isn’t today.”

He tightens his grip at that, yanks her hair forward and crashes his lips to hers without a protest. It doesn't take much to crumble his already weak resolve. “You’re sick,” he accuses, knowing he’s far worse, “and you’re a fucking slut for me. Filthy.” His hand reaches under her shirt to cup a breast, and she sighs in contentment.

Him talking this way to her only forces her to unbuckle his pants faster, making quick work of the buttons. It’s amazing how effortless the process is now, and how after a brief moment she’s able to pull her own underwear aside and position him at her entrance.

She meets his gaze and bites his lip, punishment for his words. He growls low and deep, hips tense.

There’s a brief moment of purity then, of mutual understanding.

They need each other to feel good, for now. One day that would change. But Summer’s right. That day isn’t today. She sinks down onto him and shivers.

She’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> come sin with me on tumblr @schwifty-rick!


End file.
